It's been too long since Joe Buffalino has smiled. We've been in the rumbling Greyhound bus for going on 30 hours now, and any sign of happiness has long passed into boredom. But he has reason to smile now. From behind the chemical plants spread like moss over northern New Jersey, Joe has spotted the New York City skyline, the lights like a stream of silver dollars on this Friday night. A grin cuts across his unshaven face, poking his goatee into two arches above the corners of his mouth. It's a smile that fills his cheeks and seems to change him, from the 27-year-old tough guy with tattooed biceps as thick as milk jugs to someone younger and softer. "Look at that," he says. "That is... More >>>